


slamfire

by orca_mandaeru



Series: seungyul mafia au [1]
Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Don't Try This At Home, Footjob??, Gunplay, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moral Bankruptcy, Violence, dick stepping, possibility of death gets hangyul off lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 00:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20536871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orca_mandaeru/pseuds/orca_mandaeru
Summary: “Are you nervous, baby? Don’t you trust me?” Seungyoun coos.That’s the thing, Hangyul does, unconditionally, with his life and everything else. He’s pretty sure the gun’s not loaded.  Seungyoun would burn the world down to keep him alive, he knows. But there’s still that little chance, and well, Hangyul’s always been attracted to danger.





	slamfire

**Author's Note:**

> i admit this was largely inspired by my mormor nostalgia...

Anticipation is kinda like a collar on an angry dog, Hangyul thinks. It’s the only thing holding him back from snapping, the weight of building adrenaline hanging heavy around his neck. 

Then again, Hangyul doesn’t particularly want to be let loose, and no matter how much Seungyoun calls him puppy he's nothing like a dog, so maybe they aren’t alike at all. He’s shit at metaphors. There’s no need for them in his line of work. 

Seungyoun could probably pull some pretty words out of thin air, stitch them together to describe what he’s feeling. Seungyoun’s shit at metaphors too, but the man could charm his way out of a government prison with his silver tongue (he has done exactly that, in fact). 

That charm is at work in full right now. Seungyoun is sprawled in the office chair at the head of the meeting table, expression molded into something confident and sharp. Most everyone of note in the city knows not to underestimate his easygoing demeanor, but the three men sitting on the other side of the table are different.

They are from the city, but are also young and cocky and believe they’re invincible. Hangyul would feel sorry for them, if he didn’t think they were so fucking pathetic. Years ago he had used to run in circles like and even then the incompetence was mind-numbing. 

Now, having spent years observing Seungyoun’s smooth-running product of genius, he can’t imagine working for anyone else. Well, that’s not the only reason, but. 

Hangyul doesn’t pretend to understand why Seungyoun is meeting in person with this little gang. He’s not stupid by a long shot, but Seungyoun’s more than a little bit of a genius. Seungyoun trusts Hangyul enough to ramble about those half-developed plans for world domination of his, and that’s all he needs. 

So he just stands at Seungyoun’s side, exactly where his place should be. It might seem boring to do nothing but stand in one place and glower for hours on end, but there’s a lot going on under the surface. There’s a reason he’s here. 

Protection, for one. Seungyoun could and would rip someone’s throat out with his bare hands, but the time and place for a mess like that doesn’t come along often. That’s what Hangyul’s been trained for practically his whole life, the calm exactingly accurate shot, over in a bare few seconds.

And Seungyoun gets… distracted, sometimes, wrapped up in his own layer of theatrical performance that he puts on for others. He never loses himself enough to be a large risk, of course, but he trusts Hangyul to catch the small things he misses. 

Small things like the way the man on the right’s eyebrow is twitching, hands stiff on the edge of the table. The leader of the little bunch is still talking, hands waving faster in the air, voice cocky and demanding as he makes pathetic attempts at threats. 

It’s sad, really. And so stupid. Seungyoun doesn’t show his face often, and the general underground like to build his image up into that of a brilliant but cold middle-aged man. Meeting the real Seungyoun was usually a shock for them, making it easy to underestimate the ruthlessness of a young, handsome, playful man like him. 

These three men probably dismissed all the terrifying rumors about the mysterious boss, seeing nothing but another target for them to bully like this was a school playground and not the world of underground crime. They probably thought they could waltz in here and take all the assets for themselves with no trouble, maybe a little flexing of muscle and money.

Seungyoun wasn’t budging. In the beginning he had refused with a teasing laugh, but as the pushing went on the good humor faded from his eyes. His wasn’t the only patience that was running out. The three strangers (it wasn’t Hangyul’s job to know anything personal about them, and he certainly didn’t want to) were shifting, brows furrowing and pens clacking. 

This had just gone on and on, and here they were now, tension palpable in the air. Seungyoun’s still smiling, but his eyes are dead cold. Hangyul can’t help but shift a tiny bit as well, not out of anger or fear, but excitement. He trained boredom out of himself long ago, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys standing around doing nothing. And judging from the situation, he’s got a feeling something nice and exciting is about to happen. 

It does, quicker than expected. Voices raise, Seungyoun infuriatingly calm and quiet as the pallid man opposite him stands and swears. Hangyul catches it early. The leader of the little group glances towards one of his men, just a quick thing, a hand starting to reach for a holster. 

In the blink of an eye the man is crumpling to the ground, his expression of surprise marred by the hole in his face. Seungyoun sighs dramatically, spinning his chair around. The two other men are frozen stiff, eyes wide, face covered with the blood splatter. “Baby, take care of the others for me? I’ve had enough.” 

Hangyul nods, gaze impassively skimming over the fear-soured faces, the sound of pathetic pleading starting up. Two quick shots in succession and they’re finally shut up. 

Seungyoun twirls around one more time before stretching, eyes glued on Hangyul. 

Hangyul’s back to standing straight, waiting for further orders. Seungyoun smiles softly at him for a second, out of place with the cloying smell of blood hanging in the air. A beckoning finger and Hangyul’s fumbling over, adrenaline still rushing through his body.

He always gets weird after a kill, no matter how often he’s done it before. It’s like all his senses are amplified but foggy at the same time, body wired and sensitive while his mind fogs over. 

“Down,” Seungyoun orders, leaning back in his chair, tone more patient now. Hangyul obediently drops to his knees in front of the chair. 

Seungyoun reaches down and ghosts his fingers over Hangyul’s cheek, settling under his chin and tipping his head up. “My fierce little guard dog,” he murmurs, casually tilting Hangyul’s head back and forth to study him. “Give me your gun.” 

Hangyul hands the still-warm gun to him without question. Seungyoun hums under his breath and then twirls himself around in the chair, so Hangyul is facing the back and can’t see anything. His humming gets louder until he’s softly singing, an upbeat ballad he likes to put on repeat through the apartment. 

He spins back around, gun in hand and wide, manic smile on his face. He doesn’t get excited by killing in the same way Hangyul does, but the power and control he has over every situation always does it for him. Seungyoun waves the gun around in an extremely distracting way. He notices Hangyul’s nervous gaze and chuckles. “Might be loaded, might be not!” 

Hangyul swallows and nods, looking down. 

“Are you nervous, baby? Don’t you trust me?” Seungyoun coos.

That’s the thing, Hangyul does, unconditionally, with his life and everything else. He’s _pretty_ sure the gun’s not loaded. Seungyoun would burn the world down to keep him alive, he knows. But there’s still that little chance, and well, Hangyul’s always been attracted to danger. 

Seungyoun watches him eagerly, the glee of a new plan in his eyes. “You’d do absolutely anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you?” 

Hangyul nods. “Anything, sir.” 

Seungyoun’s smile seems more fitting on the face of a kid in a candy store, not a man feet away from three dead bodies. Scooting forward, he lifts one dress shoe-clad foot and casually places it on one of Hangyul’s spread thighs. Agonizingly slowly, he drags it higher, closer to where Hangyul is hard and restrained in his pants. 

He knows he’s supposed to be quiet, but he can’t help the little whine that escapes his lips as the pressure gets closer to where he needs it. Seungyoun just laughs under his breath and steps on the bulge in Hangyul’s pants, grinning as he stiffens and tries to sit still. 

Seungyoun sighs dramatically and looks away, idly staring into space as Hangyul pants and tries to grind his hips forward. “Those three didn’t have anything useful at all,” he starts casually, eyes landing on the bodies. “But this’ll be a nice little example. Remind everyone the rumors aren’t unfounded.” 

Hangyul doesn’t want to process the words right now, hands clenching into fists at his sides at the frustration. Every time he tries to get some friction Seungyoun moves away, pretending like he has no idea what he’s doing. “Seungyoun…” he chokes out, trying not to devolve into begging so soon. 

Seungyoun finally looks at him, head cocked to the side and lip twitched up in a condescending smile. “Hm, do you think you deserve more?” Hangyul nods furiously. “Alright, alright, I suppose you do. Open wide for me, baby.” 

Hangyul shivers in anticipation and obediently opens his mouth wide, knees spreading wider on the ground. Seungyoun finally puts full pressure on Hangyul’s erection through his pants, dragging his foot up and down as he gets a better grip on the gun in his hand. 

A tiny bit of drool dribbles from the corner of Hangyul’s mouth from holding it open, but he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Seungyoun holds Hangyul’s chin open with a firm grip, ever so slowly lowering the gun until the tip of the barrel touches Hangyul’s tongue. 

The taste of warm metal and smoke sinks in, and it hits Hangyul that that is a possibly loaded gun pointed to his mouth. Somewhere in his brain the wires must get crossed, because instead of fear, a fucking tsunami of arousal douses his body. Everything feels too much, the metallic smell of blood in the air, the too-firm harsh pressure on his cock through his constricting pants, the metal on his tongue. 

Seungyoun teases the gun over his tongue a couple more times before just shoving the whole thing as far down his throat as it can go. Hangyul chokes and swallows, tongue working around the smooth metal. Fuck, he can’t hold on any longer, no matter how desperate he’ll seem. Seungyoun’s always been an expert at breaking him down to the basest level. 

Seungyoun draws the gun back and watches him cough and splutter for a second before shoving it back in mercilessly. Heat builds tight in Hangyul’s body, pulling and building until he feels like he’s going to combust. 

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Seungyoun’s finger drifting teasingly towards the trigger and that’s it. Hangyul’s throat convulses around the metl, eyes rolling back in his head as he grinds into Seungyoun’s shoe and cums in his pants. 

His body slumps limp against the ground. Seungyoun slides the gun out of his mouth and gently wipes the drool away from his lips as he pants. Hangyul groans under his breath when Seungyoun slides his foot off his crotch, the movement rubbing harsh against his sensitive nerves. 

Seungyoun leans down and brushes his sweaty hair away from his forehead, offering a hand for Hangyul to take and rise to his wobbly feet. Now that the adrenaline high is receding, the thick smell of blood in the air is turning his stomach. He glances towards Seungyoun, trying to catch his breath. “What do you want me to do?”

Seungyoun just laughs and reaches over to straighten Hangyul’s collar. “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. First let’s get out of this dump.” 

Hangyul nods, glancing at the three bodies slumped over the table. “Wait,” he remembers. “Was the gun loaded?” 

Seungyoun laces their fingers together and tugs him along, grinning. “Maybe, maybe not.” 

Hangyul huffs and lets himself be led away. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/orca_mandaeru)


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